Frank Hardy and the River in Egypt
by Lady Emily
Summary: Frank Hardy finds himself in a rather precarious position when Nancy's head injury leaves her thinking that she IS her alter-ego Rebecca Addison... and that she's married to him! An alternate version of Secrets of the Nile.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This one's... a little silly, a little melodramatic, and almost entirely written, so naturally it was burning a hole in my pocket and I had to start posting. It's an alternate second half of the Supermystery _Secrets of the Nile_ , starting from where Nancy gets beaned on the head on the steamer ship.

Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: As always, none of this is mine.

* * *

 **Frank Hardy and the River in Egypt**

The ship's infirmary was almost like a hospital, Frank Hardy thought as he sat slumped in a chair in the waiting area, only warmer and quieter. It was smaller than a normal hospital, needing to serve only the few hundred passengers on board the Luxor-bound steamer _The_ _Queen of the Nile_ , and the handful of patients who filtered in and out left mostly satisfied with dramamine and aspirin.

Of course, when Nancy Drew was involved, it could never be quite that simple.

Frank dragged an anxious hand through his hair and sighed. This case had been a mess since the beginning. What had at first appeared to be a simple task—going undercover as honeymooning couples in order to assist the State Department in drawing out an underground organization of criminals—had turned both deadly and intensely personal when he, Joe, Nancy, and Bess had realized that they'd been used to smuggle bomb components into Egypt. Naturally, they'd felt it was their duty to find the people who'd set them up and stop them from carrying out the bomb plot, and, as unwitting accomplices traveling on faked passports, they'd had to do it without help from the local authorities. Along the way they'd managed to get involved with a second case—tracking down four-year-old Leila, the missing daughter of their friend Susannah Porter-Rashad, who'd been kidnapped by her ex-husband and Leila's father Darius.

Their last lead had indicated that Darius was heading for Luxor, and that the man they were looking for—a phony State Department agent they knew only as Jonathan Kimball—was somewhere on this very ship, though they had been thus far unable to locate him. Unfortunately, _he_ had managed to locate _them_ first.

Or, at least, he'd located Nancy.

Frank still hadn't quite gotten over the shock of picking up the phone to hear that his 'wife' had been in a bad accident and had yet to regain consciousness.

According to the ship's doctor, 'Rebecca Addison' been found near the stairs on the lower deck, completely unresponsive and bleeding from a fairly severe head wound. A large metal urn that had been found nearby seemed to be the cause of the wound, but none of the bystanders had seen what had happened, nor could they offer any explanation for how the heavy urn could have gone over the railing by itself. Knowing as he did that Kimball was somewhere on board, Frank would have bet his last dime that it had been no accident.

"Cole!" Joe burst through the infirmary doors, Bess and Susannah in tow. Bess and Joe had been knocking on cabin doors looking for Kimball when Frank had received the call about Nancy, and he'd sent Susannah to find them. "What the hell happened?"

"Is Na—Rebecca—alright?" Bess added fearfully.

"Cooper, Nikki." Frank stood to greet them, making sure to use their undercover names as well. Bess was looking especially pale, and he put a comforting arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "They think she'll be okay. I haven't seen her yet; she's still unconscious."

Bess gave a little moan and sank down in one of the chairs, covering her face. "I should have been with her. Why did we let her go off alone like that?" Frank had spent the past hour asking himself the same question.

"Hey." Joe sat next to her, ruffling her hair gently and earning a glare in return. "The woman is a force of nature. When's the last time any of us was able to stop her from doing exactly what she wanted to do?" His tone was light, but Frank could tell he was just as worried as the rest of them.

One of the nurses approached the group, seeking out Frank. "Cole Addison?" she said in heavily-accented English, "Your wife is awake. She is asking for you." Her eyes widened when Bess and Joe made to follow her as well. "Immediate family only, please?"

Bess stepped forward, gesturing to Joe and herself. "We're her brother and sister-in-law. We are immediate family."

The nurse frowned, but obviously realized that Bess wouldn't be taking no for an answer. "Very well, but please try to be quiet. Mrs. Addison has had a bad injury and is still very disoriented. You must try not to excite her."

"Of course." Joe placated the nurse with a charming smile. He put an arm around Bess, gently holding her back to remind her to let Frank go first.

Susannah gave them all a wave. "I'll just wait out here." she said. "Tell Rebecca I hope she feels better."

They followed the nurse down the hall to a small private room where Nancy lay in a narrow bed, propped up on a pile of pillows. Her head was wrapped in white gauze, and Frank could see dried flecks of rust-colored blood in her red-gold hair. A bruise extended out from below the bandage, darkening most of her forehead and one of her closed eyelids. Without warning, his heart gave a little tug of pain. Nancy Drew might not be his wife, or even his girlfriend, but there was no denying that she was someone he cared about deeply, and seeing her like this—wounded, pale, still—was something he'd never get used to.

Her eyes opened, glittering blue, the wide pupils speaking of a concussion, and she reached out a hand to him. "Cole?"

"Rebecca." he said with a smile. He had to admit he'd been worried about what she might say in front of the doctors upon waking up. If she was alert enough to remember to call him by his alias, she couldn't be too badly hurt, could she? He placed his hand in hers and allowed her to tug him down to sit next to her on the bed. "How does your head feel?"

"Like it's being crushed by a thousand pound weight." she admitted with a little forced smile. "I'm a little dizzy; I feel... fuzzy?" She looked over his shoulder at Bess and Joe, who crowded in after Frank and situated themselves in the chairs on the far side of the bed. "Hey guys. You didn't have to come down here. I hope I didn't get you out of bed."

Bess tilted her head at the strange remark. "Get us out of bed? It's the middle of the afternoon."

Nancy laughed a little. "So?"

Frank shrugged at the other two, reminding himself that a concussion like Nancy's would make anyone a little spacey. "Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked gently.

She lifted her free hand to the bandage, probing it tenderly. "I don't remember anything about the accident. The doctor said something fell off the upper deck and onto my head. A flowerpot or something."

Joe leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But of course there's no way it was really an accident."

She blinked at him. "I don't catch your meaning. What makes you say that?"

"Didn't you see anyone on deck before it happened?" Joe asked, surprised. "Even if it didn't look like Kimball, it could've been that other guy, Mahfouz, or someone else he's got helping him. If you could remember what he or she looked like—"

"I said I don't remember!" she cut him off sharply, then sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead again before looking back at Joe. "I'm sorry," she said, "It's just... frustrating that I can't remember. Everything's so fuzzy, I don't... I don't know what's going on." To everyone's horror, her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears.

"Hey..." Frank murmured softly, letting his fingers trace over her knuckles in a soothing caress. "It's okay. It's just the concussion making everything fuzzy. You'll feel better in a few days and your memory will go back to normal."

"You really think so?" she asked with pleading eyes.

"I know so." Frank said. She pulled her hands away, instead winding her arms around his neck and leaning into his chest for a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back, determinedly ignoring the twin pangs of desire and guilt he felt, being so close to her. He felt her trembling ever-so-slightly beneath his hands and took a moment to absorb the unsettling idea that Nancy was actually afraid. "Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry, okay?"

She nodded, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I'm so glad I have you." she said, pulling back slightly... just enough to take his face in her hands and kiss him.

He'd kissed her once before, in the rush of adrenaline brought on by a life-threatening situation, but this kiss was something completely different. Instead of the tense, desperate heat of forbidden passion, there was softness, trust, an intimacy that was almost heartbreaking in its tenderness. The kiss wasn't long or overtly sexual, but Frank continued to feel it in every inch of his skin even after she pulled away.

He cleared his throat painfully and managed to find his voice. "Nancy..."

She jerked back suddenly, blue eyes ablaze. " _Nancy?_ "

The kiss had left Frank feeling a little fuzzy in the head himself, but a theory about Nancy's odd behavior was starting to emerge... a theory he hoped and prayed was wrong. "Rebecca?" he said hesitantly, on the off-chance that Nancy's offended reaction was actually just a warning that he'd forgotten to use her undercover name.

But she only folded her arms across her chest. "Cole, who's Nancy?" Her tone was a mixture of hurt and raw anger now, and something else: jealousy.

Some kind of soundless sound came from Bess, and he glanced over to see her jaw hanging open in shock. Joe's eyebrows had shot practically into his hairline, but he said nothing either.

Frank didn't know what to say. "She—she's... I mean... you..." He knew that amnesia could be one of the symptoms of a concussion, but was it even possible that she'd forgotten her true identity and retained only Rebecca Addison's?

"Cole!"

Before he could say another word, try to make things better, the nurse bustled in, fixing Bess and Joe with a stern glare. "I told you not to get her excited!" she admonished, receiving only dumbfounded looks from the two blonds. She shooed them out of the chairs. "The doctor will examine Mrs. Addison now. You can come back during visiting hours."

"I really think I should stay with her." Frank said anxiously. Clearly Nancy's head injury was more serious than they'd thought, and he hated to leave her confused and frightened and without a friend... Not to mention that one mistaken divulgence to the doctor could compromise their identities and send them all to rot in an Egyptian prison.

"I understand, Mr. Addison, but the doctor needs some room to do his work. You may return as soon as he is finished." the nurse said, nodding sympathetically.

"Don't bother." Nancy said darkly, lying back down on the pillows and turning her face away from him.

Frank shot a helpless look at Joe, who waved a hand at Nancy with an expression that said _go ahead, apologize to her._ He cleared his throat again with an embarrassed glance at his audience. "Rebecca, I'm sorry. I'll be right back, okay? Rebecca? I... I can explain everything, I promise. I'll be right outside." He touched her shoulder gently, ignoring her ignoring him. "...Sweetheart." he tacked on awkwardly before Joe grabbed him by the elbow and towed him from the room.

They retreated to the waiting room wordlessly. Susannah took one look at their faces and gasped. "Is she going to be all right? What happened in there?"

"That's a good question." Bess said. Her voice had a shrill edge to it. "What the hell was that?"

"Nancy's forgotten her real identity and now thinks not only that Frank is her husband, but that he's cheating on her, with _herself_." Joe summed up musingly, only to be met with reproving stares. He shrugged. "I thought it was all pretty self-explanatory."


	2. Chapter 2

Frank looked around at Joe, Bess, and Susannah. "What are we going to do?"

"Looks like the question is, what are _you_ gonna do, bro." Joe said. "You know, only you could get yourself in hot water with the missus without even having a missus."

"I don't know about that; you're doing a pretty good job of it." Bess said venomously, delivering a sharp pinch to his side. "This is serious."

Joe scowled, twisting away from her. "I know, I know. Sorry." He looked back at Frank. "It'll probably be temporary, right? That's how it is with concussions. We've had enough to know."

"I guess..." Frank said uncertainly. "But I've never heard of amnesia like this before, where the patient loses her long term memory and believes a lie..."

"Can't we just tell her?" Bess chimed in. "I mean, that _she's_ Nancy? Maybe if we explain everything it will ring some bells for her."

"But what if she doesn't believe us?" Joe said. "Without her memories, it's only our word against hers that we are who we say we are. We can't even show her ID. And we can't risk letting the doctor know her memories are wrong!"

"But we have to!" Bess gasped. "So what if we get in trouble? This is Nancy's _life_! If she needs medical help we can't go around pretending she's alright! We'll just have to explain to the authorities about the fake IDs."

"That we were duped by a fake State Department agent who tricked us into smuggling a bomb into the country?" Joe challenged. "They'd lock us up and throw away the key. And that includes Nancy."

They both looked to Frank, as though he were the deciding vote. He had to admit they both had valid points. Nancy's health was the most important thing... but ultimately, she wouldn't get the care she needed in an Egyptian prison. "We'll talk to the doctor first, see what he can tell us." Frank decided. "Maybe she'll remember on her own. If not, we'll have to get her back to the States for treatment as soon as we can."

"It won't be easy, getting her all the way back home without letting on that we're _not_ the Addisons." Bess said.

Susannah gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "You're not bad at being the Addisons. You had me fooled for days."

"Yeah," Bess said, "But that was when Nancy was in on the act."

The doctor came out to talk to the group, interrupting their planning session. "Mr. Addison?"

Frank shook his hand. "That's me. Well, both of us, actually. This is my brother Cooper and his wife Nikki. Susannah's a friend of the family."

The doctor nodded at each of them. "Well, from what I can tell, physically Rebecca will recover. She does have a moderate concussion, which is why she is experiencing some dizziness, mood swings, and memory loss, but rest and time should take care of that."

Frank nodded, more than familiar with the symptoms of a concussion by this point in his life.

"I am a little concerned about the extent of her memory loss." The doctor continued. "Rebecca is able to recite the basic facts of her life accurately, as far as I am able to tell. Her age, birthday, parents' names, college."

It didn't escape Frank that these 'basic facts' were exactly what had been covered in the bio sheets they'd all read to prepare for their cover identities.

"She knew what day it was, who your president is, the name of the ship... but she seems to be having trouble describing the details. For instance, she knows your wedding date, but she can't describe the wedding itself, you understand?" Seeing the concerned looks on her friends' faces, he added, "It's very possible that all this will come back to her in the next few hours or days. I just wanted to warn you not to push her too much on the details. Rest is the most important thing for her right now, and the best thing to do is support her and avoid putting any unnecessary stress on her healing brain."

Bess spoke up. "Doctor? What if all those memories... the details and stuff, what if they don't come back?"

"In that case, I would refer Mrs. Addison to a hospital where they could do further tests in order to identify and treat the problem." the doctor said. "This is a small infirmary; we don't have all of the equipment we would need to do more complicated scans and procedures on board the ship. But as I've said, it may not come to that."

Frank nodded. "Thank you. Can I go back and see her now?"

"Of course." the doctor replied. "But please remember to let her rest. The concussion may manifest itself as unusually strong feelings of anger, sadness, or anxiety, so try to avoid topics that might upset her if you can."

"Good luck with that." Joe muttered.

The doctor left them, and Frank turned back to his friends uneasily. "I think I'm going to stay with her for a while... do you think you can—?"

Joe nodded. "We've got plenty more cabins to search. You just hang out here with Nan. Maybe she'll remember something."

"Thanks." Frank said. He turned to Bess. "I'm sorry, I know you'd rather be the one to stay, but..."

"...She's your old ball and chain, for the time being. I know." Bess finished with a small smile. "Hey... if she was... _herself_ , right now? She'd really love it that you wanted to stay with her."

They left before Frank really had a chance to think about what she'd meant by that, but a smile of his own fought its way to his face as he walked back down the hallway toward Nancy's room. If Nancy had been herself, she'd love it that he wanted to stay with her...

Reaching her door, he took a deep breath and steeled himself to face Nancy again... or rather, _Rebecca._

"You came back." she said when he opened the door.

Had she really thought he wouldn't return? "I told you I would." he reminded her softly, sitting in one of the chairs next to her bed. "How you feeling?"

"Bad." she said. "Scared. The doctor was asking me all these questions and I knew the answers, but I didn't _remember_ them, you know?"

She looked so lost, so vulnerable, that he forgot to be nervous in his haste to reassure her. "I know, Rebecca. But it'll get better. The doc said this happens sometimes with head injuries. All you need is a little rest."

She nodded, obviously having been told the same thing. "...Cole? I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was just... I don't know."

He reached out to pick up her hand. "Don't worry about it. Don't worry about anything."

"When I heard you say that name I just had some kind of... reaction." she said, biting her bottom lip shyly. "I _know_ you love me, Cole. I just don't _remember_ it, and it's got me a little on edge."

Frank briefly fantasized about taking that lip between his own teeth before shaking the inappropriate thought out of his head. "Rebecca, Nancy is _you_. It's just another name I call you." he told her, truthfully if misleadingly. He couldn't do much to help her right now, but if he could give her this little bit of peace of mind, he would. "It's a long story, and I'll tell you sometime, but I wasn't thinking of any other girl when I said that. I promise."

"I don't know if I'm stupid or just crazy about you, but I believe you." she said, beaming at him. In her gaze he felt that same familiarity, the same intimacy he'd felt when she'd kissed him earlier. She was looking at him differently than she had before—when she was Nancy.

"You're not stupid." he husked, using his free hand to stroke her hair above the bandage. "Everything will come back to you. It's just going to take a little time and rest."

She nodded, slowly, carefully. He guessed that her head still wasn't quite up to sudden movements.

"Why don't you close your eyes for a while?" he suggested. "Start sleeping off that concussion."

"Are you going to stay?" she asked.

"Of course. Unless you don't want me to." He didn't add that if she asked him to leave, he'd only be going as far as the waiting room. The last thing he intended to do was leave her alone in this helpless state while Kimball and his goon could be somewhere nearby waiting to finish the job on her.

"You'd be more comfortable going back to the cabin..." she hedged.

Frank shook his head. "I'd be more comfortable staying here where I can see you're safe and make sure you have everything you need." The soft smile she gave him in response sent a pulsing warmth through him, and he quickly tried to shut the door on these dangerous feelings. "I'll be right here. Now get some sleep."

She sighed, but gave in almost immediately, wriggling against the pillows to find a comfortable position for sleeping. "Did the doctor say when I can get out of here?" she asked through a yawn.

"They want to keep you overnight." he told her, smiling at the exasperated look on her bruised, tired face. Even with amnesia, Nancy Drew hated to be cooped up in a hospital. "If there's no complications they'll release you sometime tomorrow."

"And then _you_ can keep me overnight."

Her teasing, half-asleep mumbled comment stained his face with a blush; luckily, his 'wife' was too close to sleep to notice. Strangely, the sound of her peaceful breathing seemed to trigger a sense of deep-seated unease in him. He told himself that Nancy would recover physically, that her amnesia was merely temporary, but seeing her so wounded and confused had shaken him... not to mention the quandary he now found himself in regarding their relationship. He couldn't stop thinking of the way she had kissed him—a way Nancy Drew had never kissed Frank Hardy.

Even the bandages and the bruising couldn't tarnish the beauty of the brilliant, fiery woman he saw when he looked at that hospital bed, and he couldn't stop the protective feelings that had been welling up inside of him from the moment she agreed to join his case... and those feelings had only intensified since then. How was he supposed to keep their relationship strictly professional when she thought they were really married? Maybe he could maintain his objectivity if he could manage to look at it as just another case, another missing person: Nancy Drew.

Which didn't make it any more encouraging to realize that, according to his mental tally, they had three cases and no answers... and it looked like they were down one detective.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all for your fabulous reviews; your feedback is much appreciated!

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Nancy's memories had not returned by the time the ship docked in Luxor the next afternoon, but the doctor discharged her into Frank's care with strict instructions and the number of a specialist in Cairo to be consulted if she didn't start making progress on her own. While Nancy and Frank were with the doctor, Joe, Bess, and Susannah scanned the crowd of deboarding passengers for Kimball and Mahfouz, to no avail.

The cab ride from the docks and the dinner they shared at the hotel restaurant were tense and quiet as they all avoided talking about the cases in front of Nancy. Frank could tell from his brother's expression that Joe had some interesting news to share, but he didn't say anything until they were standing in front of their suite of rooms in the hotel. The girls went in first, and he could hear them exclaiming over the luxurious furnishings as he and Joe hung back in the hallway.

"Susannah knows Kimball." Joe said without preface. "We described him to her and she says his real name is John Krieger, and he used to be hers and Darius' boss." He went on to explain to Frank everything Susannah had told him about Krieger's position as head of the Aquarius Group, an engineering company that was attempting to get a contract with the Egyptian government to search for underground water sources in the desert so that development could move away from the country's one major water source: the Nile.

"The connection between Krieger and Darius is too obvious to ignore." Frank mused. "They must collaborating on something, probably something illegal. It would explain why they happen to be hitting all the same cities at the same times."

Joe shrugged. "That's what I thought, but Susannah seems convinced that Darius wouldn't be in on anything shady."

"...Besides kidnapping." Frank reminded him flatly, and Joe nodded.

"Besides that."

The door to the suite opened and Bess slipped out to join them in the hall, unease written all over her face. The brothers looked at her questioningly.

" _Rebecca_ "—she said pointedly—"is unpacking her things"—looking at Frank—"in _your_ room. Just a heads up."

Frank winced. He'd been trying not to worry about what would happen when bedtime rolled around, figuring that Nancy could start getting her memories back at any time, and that they would cross that bridge if and when they came to it.

Which it appeared they had.

"O-okay." he said, only stuttering slightly. "That's no big deal, huh? I mean, you two can handle bunking together for a night, right?"

Bess and Joe exchanged dubious glances. "Uh, sure." Bess said.

"We can be grownups about this." Joe affirmed.

"Absolutely." Bess repeated. "So... just to be clear, we're just... not going to tell her that she's not Rebecca Addison and she's not married to you."

Frank hesitated. On one hand, he really thought they should tell her. Pretending to be the Addisons to the rest of the world was fine as an undercover mission, but pretending to Nancy felt like the worst kind of lie. On the other hand...

"The doc specifically said not to stress her out while her brain is healing." Joe spoke up. "Which part of _'your entire identity is fake, your friends have been lying to you, we're chasing a kidnapper, we accidentally smuggled a bomb into the country, and we could be arrested at literally any time, so please don't check our story with the authorities'_ do you think would be most soothing for her?"

"Point taken," Bess said, "But have you given any thought to how betrayed Nancy's going to feel when she's herself again and she realizes we've been stringing her along all this time? Not to mention how awkward it's going to be for Frank."

"Frank's handled more dangerous undercover gigs than sharing a room with Nancy." Joe said, although Frank privately thought he might be wrong about that. "But I guess it's up to you, bro."

"I... I can handle it. We don't tell her tonight, not unless she remembers on her own." Frank decided, sounding surer than he really felt.

"Fine." She didn't say anything more, but Frank could hear the misgivings in Bess' voice. When she reached for the doorknob to reenter the suite, he stopped her with a gentle hand to the shoulder.

"You know I would never do anything that I thought would hurt Nancy." he said quietly. This, at least, he knew to be true. The way he was feeling about Nancy these days, hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do... the only problem was that in this case, he really didn't know which course of action would keep her safest.

Bess shrugged. "After everything we've all been through together, I trust you, Frank. And Nancy..." she gave a little whistle, "She doesn't _say_ it, but she thinks you do no wrong." She finished with a little lopsided smile. "I guess we're trusting you again."

She slipped back into the suite and Joe looked after her, a scowl on his face. "I didn't think it needed to be said that you weren't going to take advantage of the amnesiac."

"Nancy's her best friend." Frank pointed out. "If it were you with the memory loss, I'd defend your honor just as diligently."

"From Bess, you mean?" Joe smirked, clapping Frank on the back as they also headed back into the hotel room. "Thanks. What a pal."

As soon as they opened the door, Bess beckoned them over to the television set. A news broadcast was playing, and the reporter was Bishara Yasseen, an ex-girlfriend of Darius'. Susannah was translating the story from Arabic, and both Joe and Bess seemed excited to learn that Michael Nasser, a US senator, was also in Luxor for an important meeting tomorrow, followed by an evening banquet in his honor at the Victoria Hotel.

Figuring it must have something to do with the case, Frank looked around for Nancy. "Rebecca?" he asked, and Susannah pointed towards one of the bedrooms. With her safely out of hearing range, he asked, "What's so important about Senator Nasser?"

Joe and Susannah quickly explained about Nasser's connection to Krieger: Nasser was a supporter of the Aquarius Group's big proposed contract to uncover alternate water sources in Egypt, but the rumor was that he had recently rescinded his support, and the status of the project was uncertain.

"Darius, Nasser, and Krieger, all attached to the same project, all in Luxor at the same time. There has to be a connection between the three of them." Joe mused, and Frank was inclined to agree.

The bedroom door opened and Nancy stepped out, barefoot and wrapped in a silky, pale blue robe cinched tightly around her slim waist. Though it was neither revealing nor particularly suggestive, the sight of her in her sleep attire made Frank's mouth dry up. She reached for Frank's hand and cast a glance around at her companions. "What's going on out here?"

With one hand safely encased in hers, Frank waved the other one at the tv. "Just talking about Nasser's big banquet tomorrow night at the Victoria."

"You and your politics." She nudged him gently with her shoulder, and he remembered that Cole Addison was supposedly interning at a political think tank in Manhattan.

"Well, you know me." he said without thinking, almost missing the flash of sadness in her eyes as he realized that she _didn't_ know him, not really. He tried to make up for his thoughtless comment with a gentle squeeze of her hand and a solicitous "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"A little tired." She smiled weakly and he knew he was forgiven as she admitted, "I was about to go to bed, but I could use some help changing this bandage first. Some of the tape is stuck to my hair."

"Of course." he said, feeling strangely relieved by the request. Wound care was easy; it was the rest of the night he was worried about.

"I, uh, guess we should all turn in anyway?" Susannah suggested tentatively. "We did plan a pretty long day of sightseeing tomorrow." They had originally planned to split up: one couple to track down Bishara with Susannah in hopes of getting a lead on Darius and Leila, one couple to hit some of the tourist spots in the hopes of seeing Darius or Krieger. Given that Nancy—Rebecca—was still in the dark about both of their cases, Frank wondered if a new strategy might be in order.

"Well, good night, guys." Joe waved halfheartedly at Frank, Nancy, and Susannah and took a few leisurely steps toward the other bedroom. Bess followed, catching Frank's eye for a moment. A look of understanding passed between them before she turned and went into the bedroom.

Still holding hands, Frank and Nancy retired to the large, luxurious en-suite bathroom. The supplies the doctor had given them were spread out over the white marble counter. Frank picked up the bottle of antibiotic pills she'd been given to prevent infection. "Did you take this already?" At her nod, he turned his attention to the bandage on her head. They both stood facing the mirror as he gently untangled her hair from the strips of medical tape securing the gauze and pulled the bandage off.

"Thanks." she said, turning around to face him. He heard her breath hitch as she realized suddenly how close they were standing. "Uh, I can—" She reached for the bandage but he pulled it back.

"Let me." It was the least he could do, and he hated to think of her in here trying to rewrap her head by herself. He leaned over and turned on the sink until the water ran warm, dampening a washcloth. When he turned back he found her perched on the counter, bare feet dangling, smiling at him shyly. He was abnormally conscious of the pounding of his own heart as he stepped between her legs and took her chin lightly in one hand, using the other to carefully clean the gash in her forehead. Needing to fill the silence, he asked, "How does that feel?"

"Good." she breathed, before screwing her eyes shut in embarrassment. Frank almost chuckled as a pink blush joined the purples and browns of the bruises on her face. "I... I mean, the cut hurts. But not because of you. You're doing good." she clarified. "This is... nice."

"Good." Frank said. He wrung out the washcloth and picked up the antiseptic cream, applying it to the wound with a cotton swab just the way the nurses had done it. He was hyper-aware, now, of her eyes watching him as he focused on his task, and he nearly jumped when he felt the side of her foot brush against his leg just below his knee. It took him another moment to realize that the slight up and down movement was an intentional caress, and then it was his turn to blush.

That must have evened the playing field, or broken some kind of spell, because she laughed, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Some honeymoon activity, huh?"

"You said it." Frank kept a tight leash on his own amusement as he quickly applied the sterile gauze pad and rewrapped the bandage. Nancy, laughing, draped all over him, not in her right mind... it was a very dangerous combination. "There. What do you think?" he said, securing the last loose end with a piece of medical tape.

She twisted around to look at her own reflection. "Well I don't think I'll be winning any beauty contests anytime soon." she answered ruefully, her eyes fixed on the mottled bruises emerging from the white headband of her bandage. "But you did the best you could with what you had."

He wanted to protest that she was beautiful, but tempered the sentiment significantly. "The bruises aren't that bad."

" _You_ have to say that." she grinned, and then pulled him close for a kiss.

This time, it was all he could do to not kiss her back and for a moment he just stood like a statue while her lips moved against his. But the thought of Bess—all her talk of trust, of the betrayal Nancy would feel when she got her memory back—had him pulling back.

Puzzled, she scooted forward on the counter and Frank automatically put his hands around her waist to guide her to the ground, which had the unfortunate effect of landing them in an intimate embrace. He yanked his hands back too quickly, and there it was again, that flash of hurt in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"N-nothing." he said, stepping away from her and meandering a few casual paces out of the bathroom only to find that they were now in the bedroom.

She followed him out, going over to the queen-sized bed and turning down the covers. Then she turned to him and slipped off the blue robe, tossing it over the end of the bed. Underneath she wore a matching blue silk nightgown that fell to just above her knees. She sat down the bed, still eyeing him worriedly. "You sure?"

Frank froze, suddenly panicked. She wasn't asking him for anything, not even issuing an overt invitation, but somehow, just sleeping next to her felt like he was taking advantage of the situation.

"What's wrong?" When he stayed frozen in place, she started to become self-conscious, then defensive. "What? Have... have I not worn this before or something? I can't remember." She was blushing violently now. "It's what I had packed."

He had to say _something._ "Stop, wait, it's not you, you look... wow."

She tugged the comforter over herself and folded her arms. "It must be me." she said. "You can't always act this weird."

He had to smile at her reasoning. Classic Nancy. "Just feeling a little... antsy, or something."

"And I can't help you with that?" she said with concern.

"I'm just worried about you, that's all." Frank promised. "Your concussion's still not totally healed, your memories haven't come back yet... I just think you should be using this time to get some more rest."

She looked suddenly upset and Frank realized he'd said the wrong thing. "It's _my_ head, _my_ memories, you think I'm not freaking out about this? Because I am, and all I want from you is to tell me that it's okay, that you're going to be with me through this stupid mess, that you love me anyway!"

Her fear and misery were like a punch to Frank's gut. What else could he do but reassure her? "It will be okay. I'm not going to leave you."

She waited, eyes wide, for him to make the third statement. "...Cole?"

The sound of his undercover alias was like having a bucket of cold water poured over him. He couldn't accept meaning from anything Nancy said to him right now. She wasn't talking to Frank Hardy. She was talking to her husband, Cole. Turning away, needing to be somewhere else for a moment, he dug through the drawers and grabbed his own pajamas—a ridiculous matching set like Rock Hudson would wear in a Doris Day movie—and disappeared back into the bathroom.

 _Pull it together, Hardy_ , he told himself as he changed and brushed his teeth. _She is hurt and confused and she needs you right now, and you're just making things worse._ Still, he waited several minutes after he saw the bedroom light go out to open the door, hoping against hope that she might have just fallen asleep.

He padded over to the other side of the bed in the dark, easing under the covers slowly. He had just closed his eyes when he felt her make a slight movement.

"Did we have a fight?" she asked quietly. "Are you mad at me for something? Losing my memory?"

He thought about ignoring her and feigning sleep, but he just couldn't do that. "What? No." he answered. "No, I'm not mad at you. What happened to you wasn't your fault."

More rustling from the other side of the bed, and he could suddenly feel her eyes on him. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes she was propped up on her elbows, pinning him with her gaze. "There's something you're not telling me."

Frank was torn between amusement and the panic that criminals must feel when Nancy had their number. "Rebecca—"

"Yesterday after I was hurt Cooper acted like he didn't think it was an accident." she continued. "He said something about someone named Kimball. Cole, are we in danger?"

Of course. She can't remember her own name, but a brief remark from Joe just moments after regaining consciousness, _that_ she remembered. Frank sighed. He and the others had agreed that they wouldn't tell Nancy the truth unless she started remembering on her own, but it seemed like the time had come to give her some answers... even if she wasn't remembering things so much as deducing them. "We didn't tell you because we didn't want to put unnecessary stress on you, but you're right. We don't think your accident was an accident."

In the soft glow of the moonlight, he could see her expression: worried, but also proud. "Tell me."

"Rebecca..." He knew he was about to cave. The question was, how much should he reveal?

"I need to know." she insisted gently. She gave him that little smile that played havoc with his heart rate. "I can handle it, Cole. I feel brave."

"You are." he told her, shaking his head fondly. "You're amazing." Taking a deep breath, he told her about finding the bomb parts in their suitcases, about how Kimball was really Krieger, about Susannah, Darius, and Leila, and their connections to Senator Nasser. The only thing he left out was the part about their real identities, instead letting her think that the bomb parts had been planted on them at random.

"Well that explains a lot." Nancy said when he was finished. "Like why our friend Susannah is sacking out on our couch during our honeymoon. Gosh, that poor woman."

"Yeah." Frank agreed. She seemed to be taking it well, processing the information calmly rather than letting it overwhelm her. Maybe they'd underestimated her.

"And you don't think the police can handle this?" Nancy asked.

"We've... tangled with the authorities a bit already." Frank said truthfully. "Darius is an Egyptian citizen and Susannah isn't, so she's having a hard time getting support from the government to get Leila back. And as for the bomb, we don't have anywhere near the kind of proof or reputation we'd need to get police cooperation on something like this."

"And since we smuggled the bomb, it's our duty to stop it from being used." Nancy finished softly. "Wow."

"Don't be scared." Frank very nearly yielded to the desire to touch her, but managed not to, curling his hands into fists instead.

"I'm not." she said, eyes sparkling. "Do you really think we can pull this off?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "Well, we've made a good team in the past."

"I wish I could remember..." Nancy sighed, leaning back on her pillow.

"It'll come back." Frank said again, realizing, to his surprise, that he was saying it with just the tiniest bit of sadness. Despite being worried about her mental state, he was enjoying the closeness with Nancy... and he was starting to see that she truly _was_ Nancy, no matter what she called herself. "And I'll be right here with you until it does."

"...In sickness and in health?" she asked, looking up at him plaintively.

"Something like that." Frank said.

She turned her face away from him, and the moonlight painted her neck and bare shoulders with a silvery glow. "Hold me?" she asked.

Unable to reject her again, not in this, the matter was settled. He scooted up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him, fitting against him perfectly. She closed her eyes contentedly, and the familiar feelings of guilt stirred in him. Back home in the States he had a girlfriend, and she had a boyfriend. If Callie and Ned could see them now they would never understand.

"Hey," Nancy said, probably sensing the tension in him even half-asleep. She could always read him better than anyone else could, except maybe Joe. "It'll be okay."

Truth be told, Frank didn't see how it was possible for this to have a happy ending, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Resting his head next to hers on the pillow, he tried to relax and enjoy lying here with Nancy.

He doubted the chance would ever come again.


	4. Chapter 4

The red glare of the alarm clock said 3:22am. Frank lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Nancy curled against him. He was having what Aunt Gertrude called 'a fit of conscience.'

He had a girlfriend. So what was he doing, curled up here with Nancy? This amnesia business was madness. It was bad enough that he was pretending to be Nancy's husband for a case, but this was taking it too far. Somehow he'd managed to find himself in a situation where he was both betraying Callie and lying to Nancy.

He shifted out from under Nancy, who stirred for a moment before falling back to sleep. Slipping on shoes and his jacket, he snuck through the living room past Susannah and exited the suite.

Unsurprisingly, the hotel lobby was completely deserted at this time of night. Of course, in New York, it was only about 8:30. There was a row of payphones across from the front desk. He pulled his calling card out of his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart.

" _Hello?_ " Callie answered on the second ring.

He pictured her at home, probably doing homework or reading a novel, or maybe working on one of her many volunteer hobbies—posters for the Red Cross blood drive, leaflets for a political rally, brownies for the Humane Society bake sale. "Callie, it's me."

" _Frank!_ " she somehow sounded both delighted and anxious. " _Is everything all right? Did you solve the case?_ "

He'd been purposely sketchy with the details back when he'd thought he'd be posing as a decoy for terrorists, and he was grateful for it now. "Not exactly." he confessed. "Things here are just, just spiraling out of control. Everything's so complicated. I don't know what to do."

" _Hey,_ " she said encouragingly, " _What are you talking about? You're Frank Hardy, you love complicated. The more complicated, the better... Or is this not the good kind of complicated?_ "

"It's a little of both." Frank said, leaning against the wall next to the phone. "I feel like we're on the cusp of a breakthrough with this case, you know? We have all the key players and connections, we're just missing a few motives."

" _And the bad complications?_ "

"Nancy was attacked." Frank said. He _had_ told Callie that part of the case involved going undercover as Nancy's husband, a fact Callie had been none-too-pleased about. "She's got this head injury. I'm worried about her."

" _How bad is it?_ " Callie asked, her voice perhaps a touch icier at the mention of the other girl, although there was a hint of concern that indicated that she didn't want to relive this particular fight just now. Frank had always tried to be honest with her about his relationship with Nancy, but he had a hard time putting it into words... which only led to Callie's being (understandably) jealous of this indefinable connection.

"I think it's bad." Frank said. "She's got amnesia. She thinks her undercover identity is real and she doesn't know who she really is. The doctor said it would come back, but it hasn't yet. It's been a day and a half and she still doesn't remember."

" _Amnesia?_ " Callie repeated incredulously. " _I thought that was just for soap operas!_ "

"I feel like I'm in a soap opera." Frank said, before wishing he hadn't.

" _You mean, because she thinks you and she are really married?_ " Callie asked. " _Why don't you just tell her you're not?_ "

Frank sighed. "I wish I could, but there's a bunch of reasons not to. We're not supposed to put stress on her. We can't prove we are who we say we are. We're kind of on the run."

" _And... there's the little fact that you're enjoying it._ " Callie added in a hard tone. " _Go on, tell me you're not enjoying playing house over there with Nancy Drew, learning what it would be like if you were with her instead. And now she even thinks it's real. You're barely even pretending anymore._ "

"That's not true, Cal." Frank said through gritted teeth. "I've been pretending more since she got hurt than I was before. I hate lying to her like this."

" _Well she must be special, because you never minded lying to anybody else._ "

The accusation burned him. "Callie! I'm not—"

" _You're undercover._ " she reminded him coldly. " _That's all about lies._ "

"Not to you." Frank shot back. "Look, I shouldn't have called like this, I didn't mean to start a fight—"

" _Why did you?_ " Callie asked. " _Call? To make me jealous? To remind me that you're halfway across the world with her and there's nothing I can do about it? Or did you and Nancy want my blessing or something?_ "

"Of course not! No!" Frank denied. "I don't know, I wanted to be honest with you. To let you know what was happening."

" _Ha! Well then, why don't you call me back when you're_ _ **ready**_ _to be honest about what's happening!_ "

She hung up in a burst of righteous fury before he could get another word in. He, too, replaced the receiver in its cradle somewhat harder than was strictly necessary, but he couldn't quite match his girlfriend's righteous anger.

After all, wasn't she right?

* * *

Frank came out of sleep slowly, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings—the dawning sunlight, the city noise. The body pressed against him, legs tangling with his. His eyes snapped open.

Bright blue eyes were the first thing he saw, already awake, watching him. "Morning, stranger."

He smiled, but he knew it was her way of telling him that no more of her memories had come back during the night. "Nothing?"

She shook her head, red-gold hair glinting in the morning sun. "Nothing. Sorry."

"It's alright." Frank said. "How did you sleep? Have you been awake long?"

"I slept fine." she said. "The headache's almost completely gone. And I've been awake, oh, maybe half an hour."

"You could've woken me."

"I didn't want to." she said. "I was spending some time just thinking. And you're not too bad to look at, Mr. Addison."

Gently untangling himself from her, he ran a self-conscious hand through his bed-rumpled hair. "Thanks."

"Cole?" she said, stretching leisurely. "How long were we together before we got married?"

Frank tore his eyes away from her, sitting up. "We've known each other for a long time. We've always been close friends, and then recently we started to realize that there was... something more between us. The romantic side of all this is still pretty new for us, I guess."

She accepted the—completely true—statement and nodded. "Was it hard for us?" she asked, "Making the transition from friends to lovers?"

Lovers... the many connotations of that word had Frank up and off the bed altogether, poking through drawers, gathering what he needed for the day. With his hands and eyes occupied, he was able to say "Yeah, it was hard."

"Why?" Nancy pressed, sitting up, biting her lip.

Frank's shoulders slumped and he faced her again. "Falling for you was easy. But I had someone else, and so did you. People we didn't want to hurt."

"But we did?"

Callie's face flashed in front of him briefly as he recalled the angry phone call from last night. "We tried not to, but... yeah. I think we did."

She was staring at nothing now, nodding, absorbing the information. Frank took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom again to change.

By the time he emerged Nancy had already dressed and joined Susannah, Bess, and Joe in the living room. The first thing she did was go straight to Susannah and offer her a hug, which the other woman accepted, perplexed.

"Do you have a picture of Leila you can show me?" Nancy asked her. "I want to help out today."

Bess gasped. "You remembered—!"

But Nancy shook her head. "Cole told me last night. Sorry." She looked closely at the picture of the smiling four-year-old that Susannah handed her, memorizing it before handing it back. "She's beautiful."

" _Cole_ told you." Joe repeated carefully, placing a hand on Bess' shoulder. She nodded her realization of the situation and shook off the hand.

"I told Rebecca that we didn't want to worry her with Darius and Krieger while she was still healing, but she figured out that we were hiding something." Frank explained.

"It wasn't that hard." Nancy said. "Have I always been able to read you like a book?"

Her warm smile had his stomach doing flips. "Always."

"But you didn't remember anything yourself?" Joe pressed. "Nothing?"

"Nothing yet." Frank corrected, seeing the helpless look on Nancy's face. "It'll come back; don't push her."

The look Joe gave him was part worry, part annoyance. Frank knew that Joe's questions were valid— urgent, even—but he couldn't seem to help these protective urges that kept coming over him when it came to Nancy. They all wanted her to get her memories back, but until then, he was the one she trusted. He was the one who needed to keep her safe.

"We were planning on splitting up today, and I think we can still go ahead and do that. Darius' cousin mentioned that he and Leila were planning to try to blend in with the tourists in Luxor, so I was thinking that Cooper and Nikki could hit some of the big tourist attractions around here on the off-chance you might spot them in the crowd." Frank continued. "Susannah and Rebecca and I can see if we can get an audience with Bishara—she probably knows more about Darius than she's saying, and maybe if we explain the situation we can get a little more from her." The original plan had been for him and Nancy to do the sightseeing part, but given the lingering effects of Nancy's head injury, spending hours walking in the hot Egyptian sun was probably not the best idea.

Joe nodded. "I think we can work with that."

Several phone calls to the local news affiliates informed them that, thankfully, Bishara Yasseen was still in Luxor. Susannah eventually managed to get her call transferred to Bishara's news team, but the reporter insisted that she was too busy to see them today.

Frank sighed. Of course she didn't want to meet with them. She was Darius' ex-girlfriend, the woman he had trusted to aid him and Leila in their escape from Susannah. Their last encounter with her had proven it. What reason would she have to agree to a meeting where Susannah might persuade her to betray that trust?

They had to give her one.

Frank had an idea. "Susannah," he beckoned with his hand and she gave him the receiver. "Ms. Yasseen?" he said respectfully. "Listen, we know that you don't trust that we have Leila and Darius' best interests at heart, but we have reason to believe there's something bigger going on here than a custody battle. Something involving why Senator Nasser is revoking his support of the Aquarius Group contract. It could be a big story. You're here covering Nasser's banquet anyway; you might as well get all the facts you can."

"You know why Nasser's not backing the contract?" Bishara repeated, and he sensed that they had been right before: she knew more than she was telling. "Can you prove anything?"

"I think so," Frank said. He didn't exactly have hard evidence at the moment, but they would face that reality when they had Bishara face to face. "We really need to talk to you. Maybe we can help each other out."

They arranged to meet in half an hour at a cafe near the hotel, and Frank hung up the phone to see both Susannah and Nancy looking at him.

"You promised her proof?" Susannah said, looking worried. "I don't have any idea why Nasser revoked his support!"

Nancy, on the other hand, looked impressed. "He was bluffing." she said with a fond smile. "And it worked."

Frank cleared his throat, trying to shrug off the warmth of her praise. "We'd better get down to that cafe. I have the feeling that Bishara has the other half of our puzzle."

* * *

"You are wasting my time." Bishara Yasseen flipped her close-cropped black hair at them dismissively, starting to stand. "You told me you could provide proof of the Aquarius Group's shady dealings."

"Hang on." Frank placed a hand over hers to stop her from storming out of the streetside cafe. "If you need proof that Aquarius is into something shady, why don't you just get it from Darius?"

Bishara scoffed at him. "He's far too scared to—" she cut herself off quickly, but the few words were enough.

Nancy picked up the train of thought. "Darius is scared. He's not collaborating with Krieger, he's running from him."

"He must know something about the water exploration contract that Krieger's trying to hide." Frank continued. "Krieger must have threatened Leila if he told—"

"Which is why he kidnapped her from Susannah and left the country." Nancy finished.

Susannah stood up, looking the petite Bishara right in the eye. "That's my daughter. My baby they're talking about. She is four years old." she said determinedly. "If she's in danger, and you know something, anything, about why she is being threatened, you have to tell us. Now."

Bishara sighed, her icy veneer melting ever-so-slightly. "Darius would never allow harm to come to that little girl."

Tears welled in Susannah's eyes. "I know he wouldn't."

"But if Darius is in danger, so is Leila." Nancy said softly.

Bishara sat back down. "Krieger, as the head of the Aquarius Group, is receiving kickbacks from land developers along the Nile to suppress any findings of water in the desert that might move development away from the river and lower the value of riverfront property. Nasser was in on the whole thing; for a cut, he would use his political influence to make sure that the Egyptian government went with the Aquarius contract."

"But, Nasser changed his mind." Frank inferred. "Although we don't know why."

Bishara shrugged. "Could have been greed, maybe they weren't paying him enough. Or maybe he had an attack of conscience. Who knows?"

"But you can't prove any of this." Nancy said.

"I only have Darius' word." Bishara said with some frustration. "He overheard a phone call and got caught by Krieger. No hard evidence. And he can hardly come out and testify, not with Krieger after him and Leila."

"And Senator Nasser probably wouldn't be happy to see this all come out in the open either." Nancy added.

"Depending on whether Krieger or Darius can prove he was originally in on it." Frank continued. His eyes met Nancy's and they both closed their mouths in unison, realizing the same thing at the same time: if no one could link Nasser to the Aquarius conspiracy, then Krieger had no blackmail material to prevent Nasser from exposing him. And as Krieger had demonstrated with Darius, he was not a man who liked leaving loose ends.

"Now you see where I am." Bishara said, oblivious to this revelation. She looked to Susannah. "I am sorry I can't help you. Darius truly didn't tell me where he would be staying in Luxor."

Susannah nodded mutely.

With a quick farewell, Bishara dashed off, leaving Frank, Nancy, and Susannah alone at the table.

"I don't see how all this helps us find Leila." Susannah said sadly.

Frank was forced to admit that he didn't either, although... "But I think it may help us find Krieger."

"And the bomb." Nancy finished.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing; your support and enthusiasm is much appreciated! I'm currently in the middle of a rewrite of the end of this story, since I'm not sure I like how the original turned out, but there's still plenty more of Secrets of the Nile to get through before we get to that! Enjoy!

* * *

Once they assumed that Nasser must be the bomb's target, the rest of the pieces fell right into place, Frank mused as he tied his bow tie in the mirror. Nasser would be addressing the topic of water exploration at the banquet tonight, which meant the perfect opportunity for him to endorse some other company for the contract. Rather than risk losing the contract as well as exposure of his illegal business practices, Krieger planned to silence Nasser permanently, in front of hundreds of people... or possibly in _addition_ to hundreds of people. With Nasser gone, Darius would be the only person left capable of blowing the whistle. And he'd be next.

"How do I look?"

Nancy appeared in the mirror behind him like a vision. She was wearing an evening gown in cornflower blue silk that set off her eyes like sapphires. She had artfully pinned up her hair to cover the healing cut on her forehead, and makeup had all but erased the bruises on her face. She gave him a shy little smile.

"You look beautiful, N-Rebecca." he said, catching himself before he could make the mistake of calling her by her real name.

"You don't look so bad yourself." Nancy flirted, giving his tux the once-over. She draped her bare arms over his shoulders and brought her lips to his, but Frank pulled back before it could become anything more than a simple peck.

"N-no word from Cooper and Nikki yet." he stammered, feeling guilty when he saw the sting of rejection in her eyes.

"Oh." she nodded, businesslike. "I wonder if they found Darius and Leila." She turned away from him, hurt, which only afforded him a tempting view of the back of her dress—cut low to her waist and laced together with crisscrossing silk cords.

Frank swallowed hard. What was wrong with him? Nancy was attractive, he'd always been attracted to her; he thought he'd dealt with that fact and moved on long ago. He couldn't be letting these desires, these misunderstandings, distract him—not tonight of all nights, when the situation was literally a ticking time bomb. _Focus, Hardy._ "If they don't get back soon we'll have to go without them. Doors open at 5:30."

"I _know_ what time the doors open, Cole." she said coolly, before stalking out into the living room to exclaim over Susannah's dress for the banquet.

Frank watched her go, shrugged on his jacket, and sighed.

* * *

"They're checking invitations at the door." Susannah said nervously.

Frank ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He hadn't really thought getting into Senator Nasser's banquet would be as easy as donning a monkey suit, but he'd hoped. "Maybe there's another entrance."

They circled the building carefully, but there were no obvious unguarded entrances.

"Shame the security team isn't as diligent when it comes to bombs." Nancy remarked dryly. She'd been keeping him at arm's length since he'd declined to kiss her in the bedroom, and her occasional cutting comment let him know that he still wasn't forgiven.

People continued to pour into the Victoria dressed in their finest, completely unaware of the explosive climax planned for the evening, and Frank started to feel the tightening of fear in his chest. How were they going to stop this tragedy? Who would believe the admittedly sensational story of a distraught mother and a couple of American teenagers? He wished Joe were here to back him up. Hell, he wished _Nancy_ were here.

"Do you think it might be time to go to the police?" Susannah asked him.

They'd talked about this, about how little proof they had of the conspiracy and how easily Frank and his friends could be arrested on false identification and smuggling charges, but Frank couldn't just stand idly by and let this happen. "It's worth a try." he said. "Why don't you go down to the station and ask them to send someone down to investigate?" At the very least, hopefully it meant Susannah would be out of the blast radius when the bomb went up.

Nancy was studying the doormen with a look of fierce concentration. "Maybe," she said, "I can cause a diversion to let you slip past."

Frank stared at her. Of course the amnesiac was the one with the plan... hadn't he learned by now that Nancy Drew could do anything? "You know what you're going to do?"

Balancing on one foot, she slipped off one of her shoes and examined it. Then, grimacing regretfully, she stooped to the sidewalk, hooked it over the curb, and gave it a sharp yank until they heard a crack. She tested the heel with her fingers and found it wobbly. "This'll do." she said in a businesslike tone, slipping it back on and balancing carefully on the broken heel.

Frank made to cross the street to the front entrance but Nancy pulled him back. "Not that door." she said, instead pointing to the smaller side entrance, which was guarded by a tall, dark-haired man. He looked younger than the guard in the front, Frank realized. He would probably be less experienced. He lingered casually behind a nearby pillar while Nancy approached the door slowly, rifling through her purse like she was retrieving her invitation. As soon as she was close enough, she let the heel slip out from under her and tumbled to the ground with a pained expression that Frank sincerely hoped was faked.

The guard rushed to her aid, and Nancy batted her eyelashes gratefully as she allowed the man to tenderly examine her ankle. By the time he helped her back to her feet, the broken shoe dangling from his hand, Frank had realized why Nancy had chosen the younger guard. He squelched a ridiculous stab of jealousy as she leaned on the dark-haired man, milking her damsel-in-distress act for all it was worth. He was so caught up in watching her performance that he almost forgot to take the opportunity to slip casually into the hotel... Almost.

Once inside, he made straight for the banquet hall doors. He could hear the chatter inside begin to die down and he checked his watch with a sinking stomach. Sure enough, it was 6:15, time for Senator Nasser to make his opening remarks.

He peeked through the doors to see a banquet hall full of people, linen-draped tables, glittering chandeliers. There was a dais set up in the front of the room, complete with a speaker's lectern. _The lectern_ , Frank decided instinctively. _That's where he planted the bomb._ But it was too late: Senator Nasser was already approaching the dais.

Then Frank spotted another familiar face: Krieger, standing off to the side of the room, dressed in the uniform of a waiter.

How long would Krieger wait to set off the bomb, Frank thought furiously. Would it be detonated by timer or remote control? He would want to time it to prevent Nasser from having the opportunity to expose him. But he would have to give himself enough time to get away from the blast.

With Krieger standing so close to the podium, Frank decided this was his best chance. Bursting through the door, he sprinted up the open aisle and past the senator, falling to his knees behind the podium. Sliding back the wooden panel on the back of the lectern, he immediately found what he was looking for.

A black box. A blinking light. An LED screen that was slowly counting backwards from three minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

He felt the familiar boost of adrenaline surge through him as he stood up and spoke into the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is an emergency. Please evacuate the hall immediately in a calm and orderly manner."

A hundred or more perplexed faces stared back at him, exchanging curious glances. No one moved.

Frank sighed. So much for not causing a panic. "We have three minutes before the bomb in this lectern goes off!" he exclaimed. "Get out of here!"

'Bomb' was the magic word. The hall was suddenly filled with chatter, screams, cries, the scraping of chairs, frantic footsteps, and all manner of chaos as the banquet guests clamored for the doors. Frank ducked back behind the podium. The bomb was a simple one, technically speaking, simply an electric fuse with a timer connecting the battery terminals.

He focused his attention on the wires—black, red, and green. One of those wires would relay a jolt to the charge when the timer hit zero. The others were most likely dummy wires, or worse... booby traps. Cutting the wrong wire could very likely cause the bomb to detonate instantly.

"Cole!" Nancy had fought her way through the panicking crowd to join him on the dais. "Let's go!"

"We can't leave." he shook his head. "We don't know what kind of a charge it's packing. It could bring down the whole hotel, and there's no way it's completely evacuated yet."

"And you're going to what? Disarm it in two minutes?" she pressed, folding skeptical arms over her torso. "Have you done this before?"

"Sure," Frank said. Maybe not this _particular_ kind of bomb, but he was familiar with the concepts. His brow furrowed as his fingers hovered over the bomb, tracing each of the tangled wires from the timer to its point of origin. "Hey, you think you could find a knife or something on one of those tables? Something sharp?"

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a travel sewing kit, extracting a tiny pair of scissors. "Will this work?"

"That," Frank said, "Is perfect."

She handed him the scissors, scrambling down on the floor beside him, heedless of her silk dress. Her feet were bare.

Frank smiled at her.

"What are you smiling for?!" she admonished, but she smiled too. "That thing is still counting down!"

The black wire seemed to be connected directly from the battery to the charge. Not a connection he wanted to mess with. He touched the red wire lightly with one finger where it disappeared out of sight behind the timer. He needed to get a look at the back.

His hands shook slightly as he turned the bomb gingerly, and Nancy reached over and placed a calming hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," he said, not taking his eyes off the bomb, "For earlier."

"You don't have to tell me right now." she interrupted. "I don't want your dying confessions, Cole. Not today."

Frank nodded, swallowing the painful lump in his throat.

The red wire was in a similar configuration to the black one, while the green wire seemed to be the only one running current through the timer. The green one, then. Basic circuitry. Laughably simple, really... if not for the fact that if he happened to be mistaken it would almost certainly mean both their deaths.

He looked at the timer. One minute and counting. "Well, here goes." He let the blades of the scissors hover around the green wire where it connected the battery and the timer. "Maybe you should clear out," he said softly. "In case this doesn't work."

"I'm staying with you." she said.

"Rebecca—"

Before he could protest any further, she wrapped her own hand around his on the scissors and, with no fanfare, snipped the wire.

The LED screen went dark. The bomb was dead.

Frank turned to her, feeling somehow angry and elated at the same time. He couldn't believe she'd just done that, just rushed ahead without him and—

She was shaking.

With a little tug she was in his arms, tight against him, while fear and adrenaline wracked her body with tremors. "Hey, you're okay." he whispered into her hair. "It's okay. We did it."

After a moment, she lifted her head, her upturned face inches from his own.

Frank kissed her.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to every one of my fantastic reviewers! Your feedback and encouragement is greatly appreciated. Now for a longer one; enjoy!

* * *

She smiled into the kiss, bringing her arms up to wrap around him, meeting his lips eagerly with her own. She was the one who pulled away first, this time, for air. "Hey."

"Hey." he rasped back.

"Cole Addison?" A uniformed police officer was striding down the main aisle.

"That's me." Frank stood, offering a hand to help Nancy up. "The bomb is back here, but it's deactivated. We think."

The officer's eyes widened and he spoke into his radio quickly in Arabic before turning back to Frank. "Our bomb experts will be here shortly, in the meantime, you will please come with us."

Frank kept a firm hold on Nancy's hand as they followed the officer out of the hotel and into the chaos of the streets, which were filled with panicked partygoers, interested bystanders, press, and police all trying to get a handle on the situation. The officer led them to the edge of the police perimeter, where Susannah was waiting with sparkling eyes. "We got them!" she squealed. Sure enough, the flashing lights of the police SUV illuminated the figures of John Krieger and Mahfouz, pressed against the vehicle, hands secured behind their backs.

"How—?!" Nancy exclaimed.

"They were running out just as I got back with the police!" Susannah said gleefully. "I just pointed them out!"

"These are the men responsible for this bomb?" asked the police officer who'd found them in the hotel. "You can identify them."

Both Nancy and Frank verified the men's identities. As Susannah clarified their story with the police in Arabic, Krieger made eye contact with Frank, his face twisting into a grin.

"You may have gotten me for now, but we'll see how well your case sticks with no witnesses."

Frank took a step closer to him, keeping Nancy tucked protectively behind him. "What are you saying, Krieger?"

"Just that I doubt they'll hold me for long on the word of a single American senator." Krieger said in an oily voice. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Nasser refused to say a word, the gutless slime. Might mean admitting he knew about something he shouldn't."

"Even if he won't testify, Darius will." Frank reminded him.

"Oh, I don't think so..." Krieger said, exchanging a glance with Mahfouz. They both grinned.

A cold wave of dread broke over Frank. "What did you do? Is Darius dead?" Then a truly heart-wrenching thought stuck him. "My brother?"

Krieger gave an unctuous shrug, hampered by his restraints. "I honestly don't know."

"But if they are, they're in the right place for it." Mahfouz added, to Krieger's apparent amusement.

Frank saw red. He dropped Nancy's hand and shoved Krieger against the car, hard. "You tell me where my brother is."

The young officer from the hotel pulled Frank off the prisoner. "Stay back! Mr. Addison!"

"Yes, _Mr. Addison._ " Krieger taunted. "Mind your temper!"

Before Frank could do anything more, Krieger and Mahfouz were loaded into the back of the vehicle bound for police headquarters. Frank was having trouble breathing, like there was a weight on his chest. _Krieger had done something to Joe._ Joe, Bess, Darius, Leila... in danger? Dying somewhere? Dead already?

"Cole. Cole." Now it was Nancy's turn to hold _him_ , but the repetition of his undercover alias wasn't particularly soothing. "We'll find Cooper and Nikki. We found Krieger, remember? Where were they going today?"

Frank blinked, trying to get his head together, trying to think. "Uh... um, the Luxor Museum. The Temple of Karnak. The Valley of the Kings."

"The Valley of the Kings." Nancy repeated slowly. "That's where King Tut is buried?"

Frank nodded absently. "It's a—" The realization hit him suddenly. "Burial ground. It's an ancient burial ground." _If they are dead, they're in the right place for it._ "Oh, god."

Nancy read his mind with her usual efficiency and turned to the young policeman. "Excuse me? Officer...?"

"Bassili. Call me Cal." said the dark-skinned young man.

"Cal." Nancy said. "Is there any way you can give us a ride out to the Valley of the Kings tonight?"

Cal looked at her like she was crazy.

"Please, it's urgent, and it relates to Krieger. Our friends may be in danger." Nancy pleaded. "We'll explain everything to you on the way."

Frank wasn't sure if it was the plea for help or the promise of information that decided Cal, but he finally nodded. "I must first inform my captain." he said, leading them over to his own police SUV. Nancy climbed in the back and then reached out a hand to Frank.

"We'll find them." she said softly.

Somehow, he believed her.

* * *

Forty minutes later, he, Nancy, and Susannah were huddled in the back of Officer Cal's SUV in the near-empty parking area at the Valley of the Kings. The tourist attraction was closed for the evening, and only the handful of Antiquities police that made up the security team were there.

"They say that they did a sweep of the open tombs after closing just an hour ago, and found no one." Cal reported back to them after conferencing with the head of security.

"And what about the tombs that aren't open to the public?" Frank pressed anxiously. "The unexcavated ones?"

Cal shook his head. "There are dozens..." he began.

"Then we'd better start looking." Frank bailed out of the car and strode into the darkness, ignoring Cal's calls after him. The desert night was chilly, and not all the tombs were well-lit. If Joe and Bess were stashed in one of the closed tombs, it could take hours to locate them.

Gravel crunched behind him and Nancy jogged up to him, looking endearingly strange in her evening gown paired with the borrowed sneakers and oversized windbreaker from the gym bag Cal kept in his backseat. "I promised Cal that I wouldn't let you damage any of the artifacts." she said. "He and Susannah are going to start looking over in the west section, and some of the security guards are going to look around in the south."

Frank nodded tersely, not slowing his pace.

The tombs were haunting in the dark, windswept relics of ages past with their echoing corridors and stark paintings and hieroglyphs. Any other time Frank would have spent hours studying the elaborate artwork and architecture, but tonight all he could focus on was any sign of Joe. Something brightly colored lying on the ground caught his eye and he ducked to pick it up. It was a Barbie doll with tangled blonde hair, dressed in an eye-poppingly pink ball gown.

"Leila's, you think?" Nancy asked, coming up behind him and taking the doll gently.

"Could be." Frank said, looking around as though the little girl might just be lying around too. "This area's supposed to be closed to tourists."

Nancy tucked the doll into her purse and they both looked thoughtfully around at the surrounding crumbling sandstone structures.

Then, they heard it.

A faint grinding sound. Repeating, but not exactly periodic. Frowning, Frank followed the sound through the arching doorway of a tomb that was marked closed to the public. Nancy followed.

The tomb was stiflingly dark, the sound seeming to echo from everywhere at once. "Hang on." Nancy said, reaching into her purse once more and extracting a small flashlight, which she clicked on triumphantly. "I wondered why I carry all this stuff around."

Frank could have kissed her. "You are beautiful, you know that?"

"I was beginning to wonder..." she said dryly, but she tucked her hand into his arm as they navigated the narrow corridors of the tomb. After a few dead ends, they found themselves in a wider, more ornate room. A pile of dusty excavation ropes and tools lay forgotten in a corner under a massive painting of some sort of pharaonic funeral scene. In the center of the room were four closed stone coffins.

The grinding noise had stopped.

"Hello?" Frank called into the darkness.

The grinding came again, and Nancy jumped. "Oh god," she said, clutching his arm. "It's coming from the coffins."

Sure enough, when he looked closely he could see that with each sound one of the coffin lids was moving almost imperceptibly. " _Joe._ " Frank said, running to the coffin. He tapped one hand on the stone lid. "Hang on in there. We're going to get you out. Come on, Rebecca."

Nancy came over to help him shift the stone slab. "Just letting you know, if a cursed mummy pops out of here, I may faint."

Frank laughed, mostly in relief. It had never occurred to him that the coffins might contain anyone but their missing friends. "I think you and Coop watch the same kind of movies." Slowly, the heavy slab shifted, revealing Joe, filthy and bound hand and foot, but mercifully alive.

They helped him sit up and work the gag out of his mouth. He coughed for several seconds before nodding his head at the adjacent coffin. "That one next," he rasped. "Leila's in that one."

 _Oh, god._ _That poor little girl._ His thoughts were clearly echoed in the expression on Nancy's face as her miniature scissors proved their worth twice in as many hours by making short work of Joe's bonds.

Joe rubbed his raw wrists and allowed Frank to help him out of the coffin and into a hug. "What took you guys so long?" he complained.

"Give us a break." Frank said as he and Joe each took a side of the next stone slab and shifted it. "We've had a long night."

"Jeez! The bomb!" Joe remembered with a stricken look.

"We took care of it." Nancy said, squeezing Joe's arm. "Got Krieger and Mahfouz too."

Frank felt a pain somewhere in his chest as the next coffin yielded a tiny, shivering bound figure, her face scrunched up in terror around the silk tie gagging her mouth. He watched as, with infinite tenderness, Nancy reached in and released the girl from her bonds, scooping her up into her arms.

"Leila? You're safe now, honey. You're safe."

Leila's eyes opened wide. "It was too dark." she whispered. "The bad men..."

"They're not coming back." Nancy promised. "They're going to jail and they'll never hurt you again." She handed the flashlight to Leila, which seemed to ease the girl's fears a little bit. "There's some light for you, sweetheart. You think you can hold that for me for a minute?" she rummaged in her purse. "I got something else for you."

"For me?"

Nancy produced the Barbie doll. "Is this yours?"

"My dolly!"

Leila was in good hands with Nancy, so Frank and Joe moved on to the next two coffins. Darius was next, accepting his daughter from Nancy with shaking hands. "Thank you," he said to Nancy and Frank. "Thank you." Frank had a hunch that Leila would be okay—kids had the tendency to bounce back. It was Darius who'd be reliving this nightmare for a long time.

"How long?" Frank asked his brother softly as they started on the final coffin.

"What time is it?" Joe asked, not making eye contact.

Frank squinted at his watch in the darkness. "A little after eight."

"A little more than three hours, then." Joe responded.

Three hours alone, tied up, in the dark, in a tiny stone coffin. Frank tasted claustrophobic panic in the back of his throat at the very idea. "God, Joe." was all he could say.

"Hey," Joe gifted him with the ghost of a smile. "At least they weren't airtight. We weren't sure."

A pale Bess emerged calmly from the last coffin, only the dried tracks of running mascara betraying the fear she'd felt. She pulled Nancy into a tight clinch before, to Frank's surprise, taking refuge under Joe's arm. Joe pulled her close, murmuring into her ear, "You did great today, babe."

As they all made their way out of the tomb, Nancy leading the way with the flashlight, Frank heard Joe and Bess' continued whispering behind him. It twisted his heart, but he was familiar with the phenomenon: they'd been through something so horrifying today that they were the only ones who understood it; the only ones they could lean on. All the bickering of the past few weeks had been forgotten.

They met up with Cal and a tearful Susannah back at the parking lot. Nancy's hand worked its way into his as they watched the joyful reunion between mother and daughter. "You were right," she said. "We make a good team."

Darius and Susannah accepted a ride to the hospital from one of the security guards, wanting to make sure Leila wouldn't be suffering any ill effects from her ordeal. The four 'Addisons' opted to let Officer Cal return them to their hotel.

"Don't leave the country," Cal warned them at the door. "We are going to have some more questions for you in the morning. A lot of questions. I mean it."

After assuring him they weren't going anywhere, the exhausted teens trudged up to their hotel rooms. Joe and Bess retreated to the balcony together... Frank suspected the open night sky was pretty appealing after the cramped coffins. He sank down on the couch, letting his head rest in his hands.

A pair of men's sneakers came to a stop in front of him as Nancy sat down beside him. "Hey."

"Hey." Under the bruises and old makeup and tomb dust she was pale, and Frank felt disgusted with himself as he realized that however difficult this day had been for him, it had been ten times as overwhelming for her. He mustered the courage to take her hand. "How are you holding up?"

She just shook her head helplessly. "Today was... unbelievable. We almost died, all of us, and... and I haven't remembered a thing."

Her eyes welled up and Frank pulled her close, offering strength. "When would you have had a chance?" he reminded her. "You've been under so much stress, and you still handled everything that got thrown at you—a conspiracy, a bomb, a kidnapping."

She shuddered against him. "It all could have gone so wrong. I don't know what I'm doing out there, I could have gotten someone killed."

 _The adrenaline crash._ Frank had experienced the post-adventure fear and regret plenty of times, and he was sure Nancy had too, but Rebecca was experiencing it for the first time. "It's over now, and everyone is safe, and it's mostly thanks to you. I don't know what I would have done without you today."

She pulled back slightly, resting her hand on the side of his neck in an intimate touch. "You would have been all right. That bomb was all you."

"I would have fallen apart if you hadn't been beside me. I know things aren't easy for you right now, but I wanted you to know that." he said, and it was true. He knew her memory loss left her feeling confused, frustrated, and helpless, but her instincts and fearlessness had taken over to carry the day. "I know I kind of lost it when J-Cooper went missing. You kept me grounded, helped me figure it out."

"You and Cooper are close." Nancy said. "No one could blame you for losing it a little."

She was so much like Nancy. "How can you understand me so well when you don't even remember me?"

She smiled. "I'm a fast learner. Now come here." She gently guided his head forward until their lips met.

Frank was tired of fighting it. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, deepening the kiss. The whole case had been something out of a dream—exotic locales, bombs, kidnappings... Nancy, as his wife. It was crazy to let himself imagine that this relationship was real, futile to want it.

But he did.

Somehow he'd fallen in love with Rebecca Addison.

She made a soft murmur in her throat, and he was lost.

A sharp knock on the door startled them apart, gasping and blushing. Their eyes met in alarm at the voice from the other side.

"Police! Open up, Addison. You're wanted for aiding and abetting in the escape of a fugitive—John Krieger."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: As always, I am filled with gratitude for my excellent reviewers. Please keep it up, and enjoy!

* * *

 _What?!_ Equal parts of fear and anger swept through Frank. How had Krieger gotten away? They'd delivered him right into the hands of the authorities!

And now the authorities were here for _them._ Fear quickly became the prevalent emotion as he realized just how much trouble they were in. Nancy seemed to realize it too, clinging to his side as they opened the hotel room door.

Frank raised his shaking hands in surrender, but his voice was surprisingly steady as he said, "Krieger isn't here. If he escaped, he did it without our help."

The police captain he'd seen earlier at the scene of the banquet stared grimly back at him as several uniformed officers slipped through the doorway, guns drawn, fanning out to cover the various rooms. There was a shriek from Bess as they invaded the balcony, and she and Joe were herded back into the main room to join them.

"Mr. Cole Addison. Mr. Cooper Addison." the captain said in heavily-accented English. He did not address the girls directly, but his body language indicated that he was viewing them as appendages of their respective husbands. "You are wanted for questioning regarding your connection to John Krieger. He is wanted now not only for attempted murder of a senator, but of a police officer as well. If you have any information on his whereabouts you will share it with us, or this will not go easy for you."

"Krieger's escaped?" Joe burst out. "What happened?"

"You are in no position to demand answers." the captain warned.

"We have a right to know what we're being held on." Frank protested, despite a sneaking suspicion that that would not hold true, not for them, not in Egypt. "We're willing to cooperate. We just don't know what's happening."

"As John Krieger was being transported from the station to the holding facility, he was somehow able to gain access to a weapon. He shot one of his transporting officers and escaped in the confusion."

"Mahfouz?" Joe asked.

"Still in custody." the captain answered. "It is he who led us to you. He alleges that you assisted Krieger in smuggling a bomb into this country. If you are indeed his accomplices, you may have knowledge of where he will go next."

"No," Bess moaned. "You don't understand—"

He silenced her with a scornful look. "Let us go."

Frank's arms were taken roughly and cuffed behind his back, and he watched helplessly as his friends were given the same treatment. They were frog-marched through the grand lobby of the hotel, but Frank was too stunned to feel embarrassed by the stares of the surrounding tourists—how had everything gone so wrong, so quickly?

His eyes met Nancy's and she looked utterly lost, more stunned, even, than he felt.

Outside, Joe and Bess were loaded into one waiting squad car, and Nancy and Frank were shepherded into the second. In the darkness of the backseat, Nancy leaned against him slightly as the car pulled away from the curb; again, he found himself unsure if she was seeking comfort or offering it.

As the cars wound their way through the city, a creeping feeling of wrongness began to edge though his initial panic. He noticed that the other squad cars seemed to be pulling ahead of them... or maybe it was just that they had dropped back gradually, quietly. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as their car took an unexpected turn away from the rest of the procession, then another. They were no longer among the bustle of the city, or even a residential neighborhood. This area was dark, deserted, rife with long-boarded-up businesses and other signs of urban decay.

Nancy hadn't failed to notice it either. "Where are you taking us?"

The silent driver spoke at last. "If you think you will be the ones asking the questions, Miss Drew," he said in a chilling voice. "You're about to be sorely disappointed."

 _Krieger._

Just when it seemed the situation couldn't get any worse... Neither detective blinked at the use of Nancy's real surname; somehow the insurmountable problem of her amnesia took a backseat to the fact that they were now in the clutches of Krieger himself. Frank turned his attention to the officer in the passenger side. "So that's how he escaped." he said, trying to project a facade of collected calm. "A dirty cop. What did he bribe you with?"

The man said nothing.

Krieger chuckled. "I'm afraid Officer Halim doesn't speak much English. And you'd be surprised at how easily some people can be bought." He grinned at Frank in the rearview mirror. "I suspect the only one more surprised would be his partner, Officer Bassili."

Nancy gave a little horrified gasp. "Cal! He's the man you shot?"

Frank's gut twisted. Cal had gone out on a limb tonight to help them rescue Joe, Bess, Darius, and Leila, and the idea that he could pay for that trust with his life made Frank sick at heart.

"Why leave loose ends when they can so easily be tied up?" Krieger asked, pulling the squad car into a dark garage. "I didn't know how much you'd told him about me. Despite the fact that you have no proof, it doesn't do to have rumors spreading." He shut off the engine and turned to face them. "That's why we're here."

"You're going to kill us." Nancy said flatly.

"Probably." Krieger said lightly.

"But why go to all this trouble?" Frank asked. "All the hassle of kidnapping us by impersonating a cop—and you've only got half of us." As far as he knew (and desperately hoped), Joe and Bess were in the comparatively safe hands of the actual police.

"It's not you I'm worried about." said Krieger. "You're American teenagers traveling on fake passports embroiled in a bomb plot to kill an important political figure. You'd spend years—if not your lives—behind bars anyway."

Frank struggled to ignore that reassuring statement and stay a step ahead of Krieger's plan. "You want Darius."

"I want Darius." Krieger repeated. "You're no threat to me. Nasser will never tell about the illegal contracts. Darius' testimony is the only thing linking me to this. And you're going to tell me where to find him."

"We wouldn't even if we knew." Nancy said softly.

"That, my dear, is where you're wrong." Krieger said just as quietly. The threat seemed to hang in the air, physically lingering between them in the darkness.

Halim got out of the car and closed the garage door, gradually shutting out the ambient moonlight. He switched on an electric lantern and its sickly yellow light illuminated the garage. It was dirty and cluttered, with aisles of shelves loaded with boxes and cans, machine parts and hardware, stacks of old tires, unidentifiable barrels. In the center, a single chair and a table littered with a variety of grimy instruments. Several chains hung from the rafters, some sporting evil-looking hooks. Anyone who'd ever seen a spy movie or read a crime novel could guess the room's purpose, and Frank was no exception.

Suddenly rotting away in an Egyptian prison sounded almost peaceful.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry about the long wait; I've been agonizing over the ending. It's coming along, though... Enjoy!

* * *

Nancy's shoulder was pressed against him tightly enough that he could feel her shiver of revulsion. He tried to twist his arms enough to reach her with his hand, wanted to give her one last reassuring touch or squeeze, but his cuffs refused to cooperate and his hands remained firmly pinned behind him.

The yellow light gave them all a sickly pallor as Krieger and Halim manhandled their captives out of the car. "Ladies first?" Krieger asked lightly.

Frank watched as Nancy blanched but tilted her chin up defiantly.

He couldn't watch this girl get tortured. He couldn't. "After the steamer? I think it's my turn."

"Cole—" Nancy protested weakly.

"What chivalry." Krieger said dryly. He waved his gun at Nancy, gesturing toward the single wooden chair. "That means you can take a seat, my dear."

Krieger kept the gun trained on Nancy as Halim adjusted Frank's cuffs so that his hands were in front of him, hooking the chain of his handcuffs to one of the chains from the ceiling, then disappearing down one of the dark aisles. Even though he knew what was coming, Frank still grimaced in pain as Halim turned a crank on the far wall to raise the chain, suspending him from the ceiling by his arms, the cuffs biting cruelly into his wrists. The floor was just below him—he could just manage to scrape it with his toes—but those few inches made all the difference.

"Comfortable?" Krieger asked.

"I should get one of these for home." he gritted out, because it seemed like something Joe would say.

"Regrettably, Mr. Hardy, it seems you won't be _going_ home." Krieger stepped to the side, allowing Frank and Nancy an unobstructed view of each other. "This is your last chance to save yourselves from an excruciating experience. Tell me where to find Darius."

Truthfully, Frank was almost tempted to tell him, but the mental image of little Leila's terrified face strengthened his resolve. Not to mention, even if he gave Krieger the name of the hospital Darius and Susannah had taken their daughter to, he'd had no idea where they'd planned to go after that. It seemed that, for now at least, the Rashad family was safe.

But it would come at a hell of a price.

He swallowed hard. "No."

Krieger waited while Halim chose a weapon from the filthy table—a rusting length of lead pipe. For a long moment he allowed the corrupt officer's aura of menace to permeate the room before turning to Nancy. "And you? I have no wish to make you witness what is sure to be a disturbing sight."

Her expression was blank, but her eyes—bright with panic, dread, and maybe a hint of pride—told Frank a different story. "It's alright." he reassured, only to be gasping with pain a moment later as the pipe cracked across his side.

Nancy let out a cry of protest, but aborted her attempt to move to him when Krieger swung the gun back around to her. "Merely a demonstration." he said coolly. "Are you sure you don't have any insights which might save your friend, my dear?"

"It's Rebecca." she spat spitefully. "And I'm not your dear."

Krieger chuckled. "Your dedication to the role is admirable, Miss Drew, but I think we can dispense with the charade. Or are you forgetting that I'm the one who invented your undercover identities to begin with?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Perhaps you find it easier to watch your husband Cole being beaten than your friend Frank Hardy?" Kreiger guessed. "Either way, the results are the same."

He began to signal Halim to continue but was halted by Nancy's murmured, "Who's Frank?"

"Mahfouz must have hit you harder than he thought." Krieger said dryly. His eyes widened as he observed the expression on her face. "You're serious." He yanked her head to angle it into the light and examined the gash on her forehead. "Actual memory loss?"

"Don't touch her." Frank said loudly. Halim had backed up a step or two while Krieger's focus was on Nancy, but now he moved closer. As painful as the first one was, another blow might be worth it if it would get Krieger's attention back off of her, Frank thought.

But Krieger was not to be distracted. "How much did she lose?" he asked Frank. "Your real identity? Her _own_?"

Nancy pulled her face away, refusing to look at him. "Let go of me."

"Bit of a sore spot, Nancy?" Krieger asked with dawning glee. "My god, you can't really think you're Rebecca Addison, can you? She doesn't exist!"

Clearly despite herself, Nancy turned to stare at him. "What did you call me?"

"Nancy." Krieger repeated.

Her eyes jumped to Frank's. She recognized the name from when he'd called her that in the hospital, he realized. "No..."

"You didn't know." Krieger deduced. He rounded on Frank. "You didn't tell her... Decided to make the best of a bad situation, did you, Mr. Hardy?"

"It wasn't like that." Frank said fervently, willing Nancy to believe him. He watched the betrayal appear in her eyes as she put the pieces together.

"What was it like?" she whispered. "Frank?" There was no recognition in his name, more the sense that she was testing it out.

"The doctor said not to put any stress on you, and we thought the whole story would be too much of a shock." Frank explained. He regretted not taking the chance to tell her earlier, when his feet were on the ground and his arms and side weren't throbbing with pain. "We were going to tell you—"

"When?"

"When we got home." Frank said pleadingly. "When it was safe."

"Safe..." Nancy repeated with a bitter chuckle, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

Krieger watched the drama unfold with a smug smile, evidently seeing a new target, a new weak link. His eyes flashed at Frank as he touched Nancy's shoulder gently with the back of one hand. "Not so easy, these days, to find someone you can trust, is it Nancy?"

"I hope you don't think this makes _us_ friends." Nancy bit out acidly. "I may not know much—I may not know _anything—_ but it's obvious you don't exactly have my best interests at heart."

"Nancy..." Krieger's voice took on a smooth, urbane tone. "Don't be so hard on yourself. After all, there's one thing you do know." He bent down to get directly in her face. "Tell me where Darius Rashad is."

"I don't know."

"Oh dear." He glanced quickly at Frank. "I think she's upset with you." To Nancy: "Maybe young Mr. Hardy deserves what's coming to him, hm?"

"That's not what this is about." Nancy said. Frank wished she would look at him again, just once. When they'd found themselves in dangerous situations in the past, a single glance had allowed them to read each others' minds, to convey strength and reassurance. But now, just as he had since Nancy had become Rebecca, he felt utterly alone.

"Why are you protecting these people? Darius and his family are strangers to you." Krieger reminded her. "Is it out of loyalty to Frank Hardy and his friends?"

He's trying to play us against each other, Frank realized. Get us so emotionally wound up that we reveal something important.

And he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't working.

"They lied to you." Krieger continued. "Deceived you in the most personal, intimate ways. Would a real friend use your injury and confusion for his own purposes? To cover up for his own illegal activities?"

"Stop it." Nancy said.

"Would he let you believe you were married to him?" Krieger pressed cruelly. "Maybe—kiss you? Tell you he loved you? All while knowing that his real girlfriend is at home in New York?"

"You're lying."

Krieger shrugged. "Ask him."

That did it. Her eyes snapped to his again, stricken and stark. "Is it true?"

For the first time since this mess began, Frank wanted to lie. Oh, how he wanted to be able to tell her it wasn't true. "Nancy—" he realized too late that reminding her of her real name might make the problem worse. "I promise—"

"Don't make any promises." she said quietly. "Just tell the truth, for once."

He took a deep breath... or as deep as he could manage with his body in its current abused position. "It's true." he said seriously. "I have someone else, and so do you. But I never wanted to hurt you and I never lied about what I feel for you. If you remembered me, you would know that."

Her voice was cold when she replied. "But I don't remember, do I?"

Halim was glancing between them with a frown, probably confused by all the talking. He spoke a few words to Krieger in Arabic, gesturing at Frank with the piece of pipe.

"My associate is right," Krieger announced. "All of these soap opera dramatics have been very amusing, but I'm afraid that if you don't tell me the location of Darius Rashad, we're going to have to pick up where we left off with your dear husband. Or whoever he is."

"I can't tell you what I don't know." Nancy said. Her hair had fallen down around her face, shielding her expression from Frank's view. Frank's heart sank as Krieger and Halim turned on him.

As soon as their backs were turned, Nancy lifted her chin, met his eyes, and winked.

Quick as a flash, she jerked one of her wrists loose from her handcuffs and picked up the lantern, smashing it to the floor. The bulb shattered and the garage plunged into darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, here it is! I think this is where I'm going to leave it (at least for now). Please don't forget to review and let me know what you thought, and, of course, enjoy!

* * *

Frank flinched as Krieger's gun went off once, twice, three times, leaving his ears ringing. "No!" he shouted. He heard Krieger and Halim stumbling around in the dark. Someone bumped into the table and some of the instruments hit the floor with a metallic clang. Just as his eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, bright lights flooded the room, blinding him once more. Krieger had found his way to the car and turned on the headlights.

Nancy was gone. Frank felt his knees weaken with relief at the sight of the bloodless, bullet-chipped concrete where she had been sitting. He spotted a hair pin on the floor near the table. _Nancy Drew strikes again._

Krieger kept his gun drawn, eyes sweeping the aisles of clutter. "There's no back exit, Miss Drew," he called quietly. "All you're accomplishing by hiding is making me angry."

No answer. No noise at all.

Krieger padded over to the first aisle.

"He's starting at the front, Nancy!" Frank called, for the dual purpose of alerting her to Krieger's position and covering any noise she might make as she moved. Even though he expected it, the blow to his midsection from Halim's pipe left him struggling not to vomit.

Krieger gave him a murderous look and stalked toward the next aisle.

The chain holding him up tightened for a moment, then loosened, a distinct tug. It took Frank a moment to realize what that meant. The chain was attached to something in the room, the winch the Halim had used earlier to raise him off the ground. He closed his eyes to prevent them from tracing the chain to its point of origin…and Nancy's hiding place.

There was a thump and a tire bounced across the room. Krieger rounded on it and shot first at the tire, then at where the tire appeared to have come from. The first bullet came within feet of Halim, who shouted at Krieger angrily. In the back of his mind Frank registered that Halim did know a bit of English, although apparently not much fit for polite company. There was another tiny jerk in the chain. Nancy was lowering it silently, link by link.

His feet touched the ground, and nothing had ever felt so good. He gave the chain above his head another slight tug. _That's enough._ The chain stopped lowering.

He kept his aching arms above his head, trying to move his numb fingers enough to get the blood flowing again. Neither Krieger nor Halim had noticed he was loose yet. It was all on him now, all about timing.

Halim had his back to Frank. His gun was holstered on his belt. Krieger was nearing the back of the garage, would surely discover Nancy's hiding place momentarily. Frank knew what he had to do, their only chance… if his numb fingers would cooperate.

Krieger glanced back at him. Before he realized what he was seeing, Frank leapt into action, looping his cuffed hands off of the hook, snatching Halim's gun from his holster, and stumbling back, keeping both Halim and Krieger in the gun's line of fire. Fiery pins and needles seared through his hands as he thumbed off the safety. His arms were shaking as he pointed the gun, but his voice was steady. "Drop the gun, Krieger."

Krieger's face was red with fury and he seemed, for a moment, like he might not surrender. Adrenaline thrummed though Frank's exhausted body. He would shoot if he had to.

"Drop it!"

Frank started at the sound of a harsh female voice, an American voice, coming from behind him. Krieger dropped his weapon.

So did Frank. He hadn't heard the garage door open, but the garage was suddenly swarming with police officers. At their head was the woman who had spoken, a familiar woman, Dominique Moreau. Frank blinked as she strode past him wearing a tactical vest and a jacket emblazoned CIA, pulled a set of handcuffs from her belt, and handcuffed Krieger where he stood.

A similarly-attired Isabelle came up beside him. "You alright?"

"I… don't know." He was sore and bruised, that was for sure, and probably had a few broken ribs, but worst of all he was confused. "You're CIA?"

She nodded. "Agent Liz Henderson, at your service. We've been tailing Krieger for weeks. Didn't expect a handful of teenagers to come all the way over here to do our jobs though… you guys have some explaining to do."

Frank nodded. "We will." He was so grateful for the rescue, he'd tell her everything she wanted to know, and happily. "But first, my friend is—"

"I'm here." Nancy had appeared as suddenly as the agents. She looked wan and disheveled, the handcuffs still hanging off one of her hands. It felt like it had been a week since she'd put on that silk dress to crash the senator's banquet, but it had only been—he checked his watch—a little more than twelve hours.

She didn't meet his eyes as she held out her free hand to Agent Henderson. "I'm Nancy Drew," she said. "Or so I'm told."

* * *

"So, you're not coming home?"

"Not yet." Frank tried to keep his tone level and businesslike. "We're supposed to stay in Chicago a few more days in case the CIA needs to debrief us any further. Since Nancy's still in the hospital, Agent Henderson thought it would be easier to work out of the Chicago office for the time being."

"I thought she was doing better."

"She is." Frank answered. Nancy's recovery was about the only good news he'd had this week. "We'll probably get the okay to leave in a day or two."

There was a long pause. "And when you do come home… how will it be, Frank? With us?"

It had clearly cost Callie a lot to ask the question, and Frank knew he owed her an honest answer. "I don't know, Callie. This whole situation… it's really messed with my head. I'm confused, and ashamed, and I'm feeling a lot of things I shouldn't be feeling, and none of that is fair to you… Do we have to do this over the phone?"

"Yes!" Callie burst out. "You don't get to just leave and just do these things and then push me off to the side until you're ready to deal. You don't get to do this on your timetable. I deserve to know it if my own relationship is about to fall apart!"

A palpable pain was throbbing in his chest. "I'm sorry, Callie. I'm really sorry."

"You're saying… you're in love with her?" Her voice cracked, but she powered through.

"Please don't ask me that, Cal."

"…Does she love you?"

Everything about that question hurt. "I don't think so." Frank said tightly. "After everything that's happened, the fake marriage, the lies I told her… And she still has Ned."

"Good." Callie said, and hung up the phone.

Frank listened to the silence for a long time before setting down his cell phone. He swung his legs up onto the bed in the Chicago hotel room he was sharing with Joe, conveniently located in proximity to both the CIA office building and the hospital where Nancy was still recovering.

He looked over at his laptop, sitting open on the bed, browser tabs open to a variety of news stories about their Egyptian debacle. The near-assassination of a U.S. senator, and the ensuing CIA investigation into the senator's illegal dealings and terrorism connections had made national headlines, overshadowing the role of a couple of small-town detectives in the whole thing. But a few of the smaller newspapers and tabloids had picked up on their sensational story.

 _'Americans Return to Chicago After Falling Prey to Bomb Smuggling Scam.'_

 _'Teen Detectives Rescued After Unwittingly Aiding Terrorist Bomb Plot.'_

 _'Local Woman Recovers Memory After Amnesia, Fake Marriage, Bomb Assassination Plot.'_

Frank sighed and shut the screen on the disheartening headlines. They'd made it through this time by the skin of their teeth, but he didn't know that he'd ever felt so bad, so foolish, about the resolution of a case.

The electronic lock clicked and the door swung open. "Geez, Frank. It's like a cave in here." Joe pulled back the blinds and let the afternoon sun spill across the bed, making Frank blink and shield his eyes. Then Joe turned on the thermostat; with a click, heat started pumping into the chilly room. Last, he pressed a bag of fast food against Frank's chest.

Frank sat up quickly, dropping the bag on the nightstand before it could stain his clothes. "Would you just leave me alone?"

"Uh, no." Joe said, sitting down on the other bed. "What's up with you these past couple of days? What—" He studied Frank more closely. "What happened?"

"Callie called." Frank admitted. When Joe's eyebrows shot up, Frank raised a hand to head him off. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay…" Joe said slowly. "I assume Nancy was featured in this conversation…?"

"Joe." Frank said in a warning tone. Despite himself, he couldn't ignore the smell of the hot, greasy fast food sitting next to him. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

"Frank." Joe responded in the same tone. "You can't hide from this situation forever. It happened, it's over, and you're just making it weirder by avoiding talking to Nancy."

Frank unwrapped a hamburger and took a bite. "I don't think she wants to talk to me, Joe. I lied to her, I took advantage of her memory loss, I nearly got us killed. She must hate me. Ned's probably standing in front of her hospital room ready to beat me up if I come within a hundred feet of her."

"Please, Frank." Joe scoffed. "You didn't take advantage of anybody. I saw the way she was with you. If anything, _she's_ the one who took advantage."

" _She_ had a severe head injury, which I believe is a valid excuse for her strange behavior." Frank shot back. "What's mine?"

"Uh, Frank? I hate to point this out," Joe responded, "But her behavior wasn't really that strange, and neither was yours. That's basically how the two of you always act together." At Frank's incredulous look, he clarified, "The fond touching and tender looks? The mind reading? The weird chivalry that she sometimes lets you get away with? The ' _we-shouldn't-we-mustn't_ ,' ' _will-they-won't-they_ ' of it all?"

Frank glared at him. "This is my life, Joe, not a soap opera."

"What part of this sordid affair _wasn't_ like a soap opera?" Joe pointed out. "The point is—and I acknowledge the irony that _I_ am saying this to _you_ —but your relationship drama is getting a little bit out of hand and even Bess thinks that you need to handle it."

"I don't know how to handle it." Frank crumpled up the burger wrapper and tossed it toward the trash can. It hit the rim and bounced out. "I'm not cut out for this. You saw the way she acted when we were coming home from Egypt. She made it very clear that she didn't want to talk to me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Frank. She was in shock after the CIA rescued you from the warehouse. Then there was the debriefing and the medical examination, and then the doctors gave her that medication that made her sleep all day and she's been on it ever since. She's had a lot to process. When would she have had time to talk to you?"

"That doesn't change the fact that I—" Frank started to argue, but was cut off by the ringing of his cellphone. The number was unlisted; he answered it. "Hello?"

"Frank?"

He froze at the sound of her voice.

Nancy gave a little laugh. "I called about six wrong numbers before I remembered yours."

Frank recovered enough of his mental faculties to speak. "Nancy, how are you?" On the other bed, Joe spread his arms in a gesture that said _See? I was right, she does want to talk to you!_ At Frank's glare, Joe took the hint, mouthed 'shower,' and retreated to the bathroom.

"Better," she answered. "I…remember pretty much everything at this point. Including things I wish I didn't."

"Nancy…" Frank didn't know what to say. How could he begin to apologize for the thing he had said, the way he'd acted with Rebecca Addison?

"I just…" Nancy sounded frustrated. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for the way I acted. I can't stop thinking about it, the way I carried on, flirting, getting angry with you when you tried to push me away." It all came out in a rush, and she sounded relieved as she finished. "I'm so embarrassed, and I hope you'll forgive me."

"What?" Frank was stunned. "Nancy, you were injured, confused. You didn't know what you were doing. None of that was your fault, it was mine. I should have stopped it, and I didn't. You were vulnerable and instead of being professional about it I let my feelings for you get in the way."

There was a long pause. "Feelings for me? Or Rebecca Addison?"

It almost sounded like she was… jealous. Of herself. _Again._ Suddenly he felt a strong need to see her. He jumped off the bed and grabbed his jacket. "There's no distinction." He told her breathlessly. "You're everything she was. And more."

"Frank." Her voice was equally as breathless. "How fast can you get here?"

* * *

He was parking his rental car in the hospital lot in twenty minutes flat. Now that he was here, doubts began to invade his mind and he slowed his brisk pace as the hospital doors whooshed open to admit him. The last time he'd been here, Nancy had been surrounded by friends and family: Carson and Hannah, Bess and George, Joe, Ned. A few of them, Nancy hadn't recognized. The doctors had taken notes. Ned had looked tense and exhausted.

Somehow, none of them were here now. Frank made his way to her room and rapped on the door before entering.

She was standing, facing the door, as if waiting for him. She wore a light blue robe over her pajama pants and thick white socks on her feet. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and there was a fresh bandage covering her head wound. The bruising had faded since he'd seen her last. He wondered if she'd been standing there since they hung up the phone.

He cleared his throat. "I thought I might run into your dad here. Or Ned."

"I sent Dad home to get some rest and a decent meal." Nancy said slowly. She pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her robe. "Ned… probably won't be coming around for a while. I… asked him to give me some space."

"I… had a similar conversation. With Callie." Was all Frank could say to that. Her expression didn't change. A sense of gravity settled over the room.

"Well." Nancy took the first step forward. "Frank?"

Her lips quirked, just slightly, as she said his name, and a wave of something unnamable filled him, a rush of warmth and relief that made his throat tighten. "I missed having you remember me." He confessed, folding her into a hug. There was so much to say, so much to tell her, and yet, nothing that mattered now.

She clung to him tightly. "I've missed _you_ , since I came back to myself," she said into his shoulder. "I missed us, what we had together, over there in Egypt. I started to question if any of it was real. I mean, I know it wasn't _real_ , but—"

If Frank owed her anything, it was this. He answered the unasked question. "But I wasn't pretending."

She pulled away just enough to look into his eyes.

"I wasn't pretending either."


End file.
